Before I Sleep
by MacCartney
Summary: Trapped on Halloween night, Starsky is scared and alone. Will Hutch find him in time?


This is a short little story I wrote for the "Darkness" challenge. I am posting it today in place of Broken Doll. DON'T PANIC! The last 2 chapters of Broken Doll will be up this Monday AND Halloween Monday. Enjoy !

**Before I Sleep**

"Okay, this is bad." I looked up at the night sky…or what should have been the night sky, expecting to see the full moon that marked this Halloween night. It was wrong, very wrong. I have to admit that, in Bay City, not a lot of stars show through the smog, but tonight, I couldn't see any. This was very wrong. The kinda wrong like when you wake up after a bender and discover that you're not at home, and you have some strange woman's panties on your head. AND, you don't even remember leaving work. _That _kind of wrong.

Speaking of benders, I had a dim, throbbing in my head like I'd been at it all night. I don't remember drinking; in fact, I'm pretty sure I hadn't, but I certainly felt like I had. And then there was the stench in the air… the thick, redolent, cloying smell of blood_. My blood._

Feeling around with my hands in the dark, I guessed I was surrounded by some kind of receptacle; a small one, I surmised by the circumference. "Shit." I kicked out with my feet and they immediately struck something hard. I fingered the area around me and the sensation was rough and prickly, but also ridged. That's when the realization hit that I was lying on my back in something wooden…oh, and my head hurt. A lot. I reached up to search for the source of blood, rapping my knuckles across a low wooden plank in the process. I guessed from how much room I had, that I was in a box about 7x4x4…generously.

I pulled my hand away from the biting pain of my wound and felt dampness on my fingers. Wound, that's funny. I guess that's my polite way of saying I had a monstrous gouge in my scalp. Did I feel bone? It was soaking the back of my shirt…pooling below me, causing me to shiver with cold. Yeah, I was wounded all right. Problem was I didn't remember how.

I was always amazed, time and time again, how much blood was in a human body-and how easily it ran out. Not that it mattered now. How long would it take to bleed to death, anyway? Would I suffocate first?

"Jesus." I knew where I was. I knew, now that my normally unruly hair was plastered to my face with a chilling sweat. Now, that the air I was breathing was becoming thick and sour. Now, that I was just minutes from dying.

I was buried alive, Goddamnit. I was in a wooden, Goddamned coffin. In the Goddamned dark. I did an…odd sort of contortive wiggle and was finally able to dip a hand in my pocket feeling for anything that would be helpful: a stick of gum, matches, some lint. Useless, all of it. I unwrapped the gum and put it my mouth, anyway, flicking the paper towards my feet. I could hear the wrapper coming to a rest just below my left leg, that's how small my death chamber was.

In my mind I could hear Hutch yelling at me for littering, and couldn't stop the chuckle that burst from my mouth. Was that really me? Jesus, it sounded funny, almost manic. I guess I was scared.

I've been scared before, you know. Like the time I found my partner's car at the bottom of a ravine. _My partner's dead_, I thought at the time. But, then, I found him trapped under that piece of junk car of his. Trapped, but alive. I used my hand to push the hair off his face. "You're okay, buddy. I found you. Next time you need some days off, just ask." Man, I was scared. He looked bad, you know…pale, fragile. Even if the ambulance arrived soon, I wasn't sure he would make it to the hospital. But he did. _He_ survived. I wasn't too sure I could pay back that favor.

I was breathing harder now, almost panting. I could hear myself wheezing, and each breath burned my throat. White dots were floating before me and I felt sort of, well, woozy. It wouldn't be long before I'd pass out. Before I'd…well, you know.

"Well, fuck." I bent my arms over my chest, trying to get more comfortable, and blinked the sweat out of my eyes. It was getting really hot. "Fuck!" I yelled, like anyone could hear me. All it did was cause small particles of dirt to fall through the cracks of my coffin and into my burning eyes. I was tired. Damn tired.

I thought of Hutch. Did he even know I was missing? Would he go to work and just find me gone? How long had I been here, anyway? Hours, days? Was anyone looking for me? _Oh, God_. What if he never found me? What if I just disappeared? I remembered how I felt when I found _him_ missing, when Forest's men grabbed him; I felt like the earth had been blown out from under me, I felt lost. Did he feel that sense of helplessness, too, when Simon's people took me?

Man, I'm tired. I threaded my hand through my hair and wished I had some Tylenol right about now.

"Hutch!" I knew it was pointless, but I yelled for my partner, my best friend, till my throat was raw. I pounded and kicked and scratched on the box till my hands were bloody with splinters and each fingernail torn off. I never saw my death happening like this…trapped in some fucking wooden box, buried God knows where. A bullet… in the line of duty, that's how I imagined going. "Hutch," I squeaked, as hot tears leaked from the outer edges of my eyes.

It's been a bad day, a really bad day. A really, really, fucking bad day. I futilely kicked at the death box a few more times, only succeeding in causing more dirt to cave in on me. My chest burned, and I coughed, trying to rid my lungs of the debris I'd inhaled during my panicked tantrum.

I felt my eyes growing heavy. It was time to sleep, and I couldn't fight it. Hell, I didn't _want_ to fight it. Hutch would understand, wouldn't he? Yeah, he would. I rocked my head from side to side, wondering what Hutch would understand. Man, why am I so tired? God, it's hot. Hot. "H-Hutch?" Was I supposed to tell him something? My eyes closed and I wondered why my bed felt so hard. Don't tell me I fell asleep on his couch again…hum? "Hutch, you need to turn on the 'ditioner. It's hot in here." I'm not sure if I said that out loud or just thought it. But it _was _hot. I was sweating, and I was tired….so very, very tired…damn tired…hard to breathe…so….tired…

O0O

The air was cool and crisp, like when you drive fast with your window down in the winter. That's what I felt, a whoosh of cold air. Then I felt a hand fist my shirt and I was being lifted like a child. The blurred voices I heard became louder and more focused. I opened my eyes and squinted against the flash of bright red lights, unable to latch onto my disorganized mental command. Desperately, I reached out and felt a familiar hand. "Hutch?" Jesus, I didn't recognize my own voice, raspy, thick and choked.

"I got you, partner." I did recognize _that_ voice; it belongs to my friend, my partner. Hutch sounded different, though. I'm not sure I'd ever heard him sound like that before, so panicked. God, I must really look like shit to spook him like that. I tried to tell him I was sorry. Sorry for scaring him, for not saying good-bye, for looking so bad, but it just came out as a harsh cough.

I must have fallen asleep, because suddenly I felt my weight shift against his chest as he maneuvered me, making breathing easier. I felt his fingers softly tangle in my hair, and turned my cheek to rest against his chest, longing for the contact.

I whispered so low I wasn't sure he heard me. "… tired."

"I know, buddy, it's been a long two days. I'm tired, too. Just go to sleep now. Shhhh," he whispered back while resting his arm across my chest. "Let's get him to the hospital, guys," I heard him say. And, then sleep I did, safely in the arms of my best friend.

The End


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